Upon Friendship
by makeithappen
Summary: Richard Winters reflects on his friendship with Lewis Nixon. Around Normandy.
1. Chapter 1

Upon Friendship

Disclaimer: I don't own anything  
Based off of the mini-series no disrespect meant to the real men or actors

Richard "Dick" Winters didn't get a lot of time to think about anything other than the war and the men around him. There was no time to reflect on life or his family back home only making sure said men were okay, looking after Nixon (which probably should have fallen last on his list but managed to worm its way up to second) and carrying out his duties. It was the fact that he worried about Nix which made him stop one day and take a moment to think.

Back home he'd had a lot of friends, even a few "best" friends. But before joining the Airborne Infantry he'd never felt such…deepness in his friendship. He'd never before thought about dying for another man, never thought he'd have to jump in front of a bullet for him. The only bullets flying around back home where during hunting season and there was little chance that someone was going to get shot. He had never thought he'd have a best friend or any friend really, that he would be responsible for their life. Back home, the only reason he worried after his friends were if they were partaking in something he didn't agree with and that was rare. Almost everyone where he came from was close enough to being like him he hardly raised a concern. His friends back home drinking, he had learned to accept. That was life.

Now though, in the middle of this war he was worrying more than ever, which he supposed was natural, but none of his worries were about himself. Most of them were directed at Nixon. Sure Dick worried about making sure Harry got home to his girl who he talked almost non-stop about, and sure he worried about the rest of the Company and making sure as many of them made it back. He wasn't unrealistic, causalities happened. He just hoped that he could stop some if not most of them from happening. But he mostly worried about Nix.

He worried about his drinking and how much trouble it would get him into. He worried about the way Nix sometimes became out of focus that happened so rarely that Dick wondered if he was imagining it. He worried about Nix's life before the war, the very little he had said was not optimistic. He worried over the fact that Nix forgot his kid's name sometimes and the look of pain that crossed his face whenever he couldn't quite recall what his own blood looked like. Dick even worried that Nix didn't send any letters back to America which was probably none of his business but still he worried.

Dick had eventually come to the conclusion that while he had a bond with all these men, that they were brothers of sort, Nix was his best friend which somehow was more important than the rest of it. Everyone else had a best friend here, a partner in crime. Whether it be Liebgott and Webster or Martin and Randleman they all had the one person they would lay down more than their life for. The one person they reached out to in times of fear in a way no one that wasn't there could understand. They all had that person who they could tell anything to when it weighed them down, the one person who would understand the things they did even if they didn't realize they understood it. Which was Dick Winters was glad he was Nixon's "person". Because if there was someone who needed to be understood by another who wasn't going to make a joke, get angry or make judgments it was Lewis Nixon.

So when said person stumbled upon him staring up at the sky slightly out of sorts with an amused look on his face, he merely smiled and shrugged. Nix frowned briefly, shook his head and continued on his way with whatever path he had been following. That, Dick Winters decided, was _real_ friendship.

A/N: I couldn't get this out of my head because I think that Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon were true friends and that their relationship was much deeper than normal friendships go. I dunno, it just struck me and I decided to go with it. Well…this is it, and I rather like at least the idea of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-

Disclaimer: I don't own anything  
Based off of the mini-series no disrespect meant to the real men or actors

Lewis Nixon had no idea why he was such good friends with Dick Winters. He drank, Dick didn't. He smoked, Dick didn't. He had more vices than virtues and he was pretty sure Dick had more virtues and probably no vices. He hated his family and his wife and couldn't even remember his own kids name and Dick missed his family, knew everyone down to his third or fourth cousin's names and even counted them off to Nix.

He wasn't sure why they had become close friends so fast. The tall red head somehow managed to find a spot in Nix's life that he would rather not have void. At first, Nix had attempted a bit resistance, not openly or noticeably but he reasoned that he didn't want to worry about anyone but himself out there, wherever the hell the war was taking place. Maybe that's why he so quickly came to view Dick as someone he would protect no matter what.

Not that he wouldn't give his life for any of the men he served with, truly he would since he knew most of them were too young to be in a war and they deserved a chance at happiness. He'd destroyed his life with his drinking and marrying Katharine. She deserved better, he had decided one evening, bitchy and annoying she may be but she deserved better than Lewis Nixon who was beyond the devil. Hell, he couldn't even remember his own kids name and if that wasn't a sin Nix didn't know what was. No, he would give up his life for Dick, Harry any of them.

But there was just something about his friendship with Dick. Where he was strong, Dick was weak (not really, Nix just liked to think that somewhere in his friend there was a flaw) and where he was weak, Dick was strong (that was a proven fact anyone could point out). When Dick hesitated, Nix just struck out even if it meant being eyed with impatience by Dick. Nix didn't soften; Dick couldn't help but do so.

Back home, Nix knew he wouldn't give his life for any of those worthless humans (hardly even that) that he called friends. They were all weak with smooth hands, never touching a gun never shooting down another man. Not that Nix had, he couldn't bring himself to take a life when he'd wasted his so efficiently. He'd seen Dick take lives, and that he supposed was another reason he didn't. Dick didn't need a friend with the same problems he had, Nix preferred he be different.

Secretly though, he knew it was just a measure so when Dick did fall apart from killing (he would even if he denied it) Nix could come to him with a fresh mind and not wallow in his own life-taking. So, he kept his gun close but not enough to use. Sure if he was head to head and it meant dying he might fight back, or if it was Dick who was in trouble (or any of the men but he kept that tucked very tightly away) then Nix knew he'd shoot. But if it was him, in the middle of the frontline he wouldn't maybe even couldn't use it, and he knew and accepted that.

He worried about Dick and all the worry he carried. He knew Dick worried about him, and that concerned him. He had no reason to. Nix didn't deserve his friendship let alone his worry. He didn't' even deserve the understanding that Dick threw at him, every time the other men just stared at him. Dick could keep up with his drunken ramblings, decoding everything and doing just what he needed. Nix did the same to him, but Dick was somehow easier to understand. He'd always figured he was the more complicated of the too and that Dick was merely the strong, simple (but _not_ stupid) one. If anyone was stupid in their friendship, the title went to Nix without a doubt.

Whatever the reason for their friendship being so deep, Nix didn't truly care, as he thought on. It didn't truly matter. They were just friends, deep, best friends who understood each other, worried about each other and took care of each other. Who else was going to tell Dick to settle down? Who else was going to tell him he worked to hard and that he was going to die and not even in a dramatic heroic way but in a ridiculous way? Hell, if he got right down to it Dick needed him.

So when he stumbled upon Dick staring at the sky grinning Nix just frowned and shook his head before continuing. He had a feeling Dick would follow him…and he was right.

A/N: Well. Here's Nix's view of it all. I adore Ron Livingston and the real Lewis Nixon was pretty great himself. It's not too bad I don't think…at least I hope not.


End file.
